Free Hunter Betrayed by Nancy Corrigan Page B

the tightness of her throat and he’d erupt.
    The thought stirred her needs. She pressed her tongue to the
roof of her mouth and gripped the leather strap around his waist. It would feel
so good to have his silken-steel cock slide over her tongue. She tugged the
cord. It didn’t budge.
    He grasped her wrist. “You can’t pleasure me.”
    “Why not?”
    A sigh fell from his lips. “I’m not really here, Harley. I
merely wanted you to feel what the sight of your body has done to me.”
    “But—”
    “You’ve connected with me and brought my image close. I’ve
filled it with life, but it’s draining to hold onto the solid shape. I won’t be
able to maintain it much longer, nor can I change it from the one I hold back
in my prison.”
    She sat back on bent legs and sifted her fingers through his
hair. Silky, soft strands tickled her fingertips. She leaned close and pressed
her nose to the crook of his neck. His rich, woodsy scent filled her lungs. She
touched the tip her tongue to his skin. The flavor of salt and Calan ignited
her taste buds.
    “You feel real.”
    He mimicked her pose, hands in the mass of bouncy curls she
could never tame. “I am. I’m just not here. You left me alone in my own
personal hell.” He leaned closer and buried his face in her hair. “I’d always
thought my punishment the worst I could imagine. I was wrong. This, my flower,
is hell. Wanting you, needing you and not being able to love you.”
    She held him close, his words rocking her, but the rational
side of her had to rear its ugly head. “How can you say that? You don’t know
me.”
    He used his nose to brush a lock of hair away from her ear.
The warmth of his breath fanned her sensitive skin. “I know enough. My choice
is made, Harley. I am yours. I won’t take it back. Soon, I won’t be able to.”
    She stiffened. The finality in his tone left her wary. “What
do you mean?”
    He captured her earlobe and gave it a little tug. She
shivered, automatically moving closer. He nibbled on the tender flesh. The cock
pressed between them jerked. “I’ve already told you what you need to know.”
    “But—”
    “Harley.” He captured her face between his hands. “Decide.
Let me worship you or let me go.”
    “Worship.” She linked her arms around his neck. “Please,
touch me.”
    His grin turned her heart over. With the hands she suspected
had killed countless fairies, he lowered her to the floor.
    His heated gaze focused on her breasts. “Gods, you are
beautiful. You were made for loving.” A wavy lock of dark hair hung over his
eyes but the blue peeking through the strands pierced her. She sucked in a
rough breath. “Made for me.”
    She wanted to argue. She was made from an unholy act for no
other reason than because Dahm had coveted her mother or had simply wanted to
rape a human. Calan’s low growl stopped the thought from gaining more ground.
He slid a hand between her thighs and cupped her mound. The possessive way he
touched her eased the tension she hadn’t realized had seized her muscles.
    “Focus on me. Only me.”
    She dipped her chin in acknowledgement and he pushed two
fingers into her dripping center. A shocked cry escaped her lips. The rough
thrust took her by surprise. He didn’t tease her, didn’t slowly stoke the
embers of desire, didn’t worship her. Not in the sweet, making love sense,
anyway. He worked her body with hard, rapid thrusts of his fingers. The curl
and twist at the end of each drive matched what she’d done not long ago. He hit
her G-spot easily and adjusted his prodding fingers to zero in on the elusive
trigger point.
    Her body trembled. The orgasm he built tightened her core
and strung her limbs taut. He didn’t send her over the edge, though. His steady
stroking made it grow. Her rough breaths shortened. She gasped, tried to drag
in air but couldn’t. The race to experience heaven on earth became her world
along with the man whose hot and hungry eyes watched her with